angel bones

by Jamie Kim-Worthington

cover photo by Sydney Denman, modeled by Tobey Lynn

we are young girls and the sun is holy to us

the moon burns. we are saints,

breathing clay and exhaling dough

and the sun is holy and i love you more than anything.

we are angels (it’s later now,

the moon doesn’t burn like mints or peppers)

and your wings are like hummingbirds, like bees.

and we stop to watch a flock of crows and their beady feathers,

i say god is in this too and you 

don’t look happy, but you don’t look completely angry.

we are men and we are ancient, antique, strong in our chests.

there is no space left in this poem for grief,

so we don’t grieve for each other when we temporarily part.

it’s like a sea and shore love, it’s an ancient love.

you’re lute strings and wine. i’m bronze helmets and boiling blood.

i hope our ashes are mixed together when we die. 

we are bones (much later,

eons have passed, maybe.)

angel bones. mash them up to make a panacea.

touch them and they feel warm.

i am no longer a girl,

i am a what, not a who. 

i am intangible, impossible. i love you like a wound.